Rananna
by adanudowaya
Summary: A young Dunlanding girl is faced with a hard dicision of life and death that holds her future in the outcome-- a future linked to a ring she will never see, but will change her life forever.
1. Fauwne

Fauwne carefully peeked through the door to her hut. She knew that she was not allowed inside while a meeting of the elders was going on, but she couldn't help it. She just had to know! Her papa was the chief of their little band, and he had seemed rather distant ever since he had returned to their camp a week ago. Fauwne felt that this meeting would announce the reason for his distraction. Her father's deep voice resonated in the small hut, and Fauwne listened quietly.  
"Men of Dunland, I have called you together to listen to a proposition that could regain us our lost land."  
The men murmured softly at this, they had been driven to the hills nearly three centuries ago. There was nothing they would not do to regain their land.  
"I have spoken to a man who will help us overthrow the Rohirrim."  
Again muttering broke out, and the chief waited for silence to return. Fauwne was grateful for the noise inside the hut, for it masked her own small gasp of surprise. As much as she wanted to hear the rest of the discussion, Fauwne knew that she could not stay at the door any longer and risk discovery.  
She left just in time. As she slunk behind the hut, she saw her mother emerge from another hut and glance at the place she had just vacated. Fauwne crept a few feet away from the hut before showing herself. "Where you looking for me, Mother?" she called with a bright smile.  
Her mother returned her smile as she answered. "Yes, I was. I was afraid that watching the men's meeting would be too much for you to resist. I am glad to find that I was wrong." The older woman's smile grew larger. "But, that was a habit of a young girl. What a fine young lady you have become, Fauwne!"  
Fauwne's face reddened in the night. She was glad her mother could not read the shame written on it. She was right! Watching the men was for young children. Fauwne was nearly fifteen, and it was time that she stopped such nonsense!  
The two women walked back into the hut where the women had gathered to talk while the men met.  
Fauwne sat down in a corner and listened to the soft voices around her. She was proud to be a Dunlending. In her mind, it was the noblest creature in Middle Earth. Why be a tiny Halfling, or a pale Elf, or an ugly Man when you could have the tall stature, golden skin, and black hair of a Dunlending? True, they where from the same race as Men, but ever since they had been treated so wrongly by the men of Gondor and driven from their lands, her people had thought of themselves as a distinct kind.  
And now, they might regain their lands! The thought was enough to make her head spin. Their proud culture would once more be accepted in their native lands. They would not hide in fear in the hills any more. Soon, things would change.  
  
The next day, the women where finally let in on the subject of the men's meeting. Fauwne's father, Crebain, stood in the center of the small village and announced the plan. "Dunlendings!" He cried, "Our lands have been taken from us! Now is the time to prepare-- we shall take them back!"  
The people cheered wildly, and then calmed themselves as Crebain spoke again. "A man is coming to our village. He has promised to help us take back what is ours! He has a great army. We will gather all of our forces and unite all of our strength. Then we will march to victory!"  
A thought came to Fauwne then. "But why will he help us? We have so few people. What can we do for him?" Fauwne did not realize she had spoken aloud until a hush came over the crowd and she realized that all eyes where on her. A long second later, those eyes swung back to Crebain, asking the same question.  
Crebain met the challenging eyes, but everyone could see that he was holding something back. "This man wants to destroy the Rohirrim as much as we do, but his army, while strong, has, well, a certain weakness. That is why he requires our help. He has agreed to let us keep those lands that where once ours, and the rest of the lands he will control."  
"How do we know that he will not use his army against us as soon as he gets what he wants?" One of the men spoke up.  
Crebain smiled. "His army will not turn against us-- I can assure you of that."  
The people were satisfied with his words for the time being, and started to disperse. One final question was posed by Fauwne's Mother, Alfirin.  
"Who is this man?"  
Only she and Fauwne heard Crebain's answer. "Saruman."  
  
All that week, Fauwne had wondered about the strange man who would help them regain their lands. She could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her father had grown more distant each day. Even the other men seemed to notice the change in him. Fauwne noticed that he never spoke about their pride, heritage, or culture any more. In fact, he seemed driven only by the land. He hardly ever spoke to her or Alfirin. In fact, he was never seen speaking to any of the women anymore, and only rarely to the men.  
It was with great trepidation that the day arrived that Saruman came to the village. All the people from their village, and several surrounding villages, flocked to the street as he walked slowly through the village. Beside him walked a huge man draped from head to foot with a heavy, dark cloth. Curious children ducked around him, poking and prodding him, trying to see beneath his cloak, but one hard smack from the man's hand sent one small boy flying, and ended the children's game.  
Saruman and his massive follower reached the center of the village, and turned to address the people. Everyone waited with baited breath to hear Saruman's scheme.  
"Good Hill-People," Saruman started in a sugary voice, then paused. "Did you know that this is the name given you by those who have stolen your land? Hill-People? How degrading. You, my great Dunlendings, are so much more than simple hill-people." He paused again, seemingly regaining his train of thought. "You have been forced from your land. Forced to live as herders and foragers, camped in tiny villages high in the hills with little food and water. That is what the Rohirrim have done to you. To me, they have done equal evils. Yet, these evil beings dwell in land that is our right." He stopped again and looked over the crowd, carefully making eye contact with each one.  
Fauwne, still feeling something was not right, found herself strangely captivated by the man's words. She forced her eyes instead to the hidden being at Saruman's side.  
"You cannot attack the Rohirrim because your might is not enough. I cannot attack the Rohirrim because, though my might is great, my army lacks what you have-- Eyes that see in the light. My army fights only at night. You can fight only at day. Together, we can be an invincible force."  
Fauwne shook her head to clear it of the cloud that seemed to linger there. Something was wrong. But it sounded so right...  
"As yet, you do not have a large enough number to aid my force. So, why should I allow you your lands upon our victory? Because, by the time we attack, your numbers will be enough. You have few warriors, but many women. I have many warriors, but few leaders. It would take at least 20 years for you to have even a fraction more fighting men. I can produce an army in only a few years." He paused and made sure that the silent group was firmly in his power before making his final announcement.  
"Now, give me your women. Let them bear sons to my warriors. They will be ready to fight in ten years-- we will be unstoppable."  
Fauwne gasped. What was he suggesting? She glanced around her to see if anyone else saw the evil in his plan, but the men where already nodding in agreement. The women, though a little less sure, had turned to their husbands, and, seeing their agreement, where also nodding.  
Fauwne looked at her mother. Her eyes where locked on Crebain. Fauwne followed her gaze to her father, and what she saw made her blood run cold. Crebain was nodding at Saruman's words-- and his eyes where locked on her.  
  
That night, the horror of the day seemed minimal as Saruman's 'man' removed his cloak. Had the people seen the horrible monster before they had heard Saruman's speech, they would have run him from the hills. But now, the terrible creature, whom Saruman called a Uruk-Hai, was accepted as family.  
Even Saruman's flowery speech could not remove all of the horror and disgust on one young girl's face, however, as one of the men insisted that his daughter be the first mother of a Uruk-hai warrior child. Fauwne watched in horror as her best friend was led from the group by the monster, while all the rest of the village applauded.  
What was happening to her people? Was Saruman some sort of wizard who had cast a spell over them? As soon as Fauwne had thought the words, she knew they where true. Her people where under a spell. Why else would they agree to this? But, why did she see through it and no one else? Her head was spinning with the horror of the day. She crept away from the group, and returned to her own hut to seek relief in sleep.  
All night she tossed and turned, one nightmare chasing another through her tortured mind. She greeted the morning gladly, until she discovered what lay just outside of her hut. During the night, a whole army of the Uruk-hai had arrived. The foul creatures littered the streets. The sight of them brought back all the horror of the day before, and Fauwne thought first of her friend, Galenas, who had been given to the monster the night before.  
Fauwne carefully made her way to her friend's hut, but stopped short upon hearing weeping from behind another hut. She looked, and there found Galenas, crying as if her heart would break. Rightly enough, thought Fauwne, for Galenas would have been married only a month in the future. Fauwne knelt by her friend and waited for the tears to subside.  
"What will you do?" Fauwne asked her friend.  
"What choice do I have, now?" Galenas answered bitterly. "I will bear a child to that monster. Saruman will have his warrior. I do not want him."  
"But, he will still be your son," Fauwne pointed out. She was surprised by her friend's reaction. How could she toss away her son to that vile man to kill? Even if the child was meant for war? Did a child's birth determine his life?  
Fauwne sat with her friend for almost an hour before she returned to her own hut. When she arrived, though, she found four people waiting for her. Or, three people and an Uruk-hai.  
"Where have you been?" were the first words out of Crebain's mouth. Fauwne had no time to answer before he continued. "Never mind. You are here now. Do you realize that you are the only girl in the village who has not yet been chosen by one of these great warriors to bear a son?"  
Fauwne's eyes where drawn to the hideous face of the Uruk-hai in the hut. Was this the creature whose son she was to bear? Her heart rebelled. She fought against the nauseous feeling that overwhelmed her.  
Crebain saw her eyes on the warrior, and misinterpreted her look. "This one is not your's, Fauwne," he told her. "You cannot expect to arrive so late and get so great a fighter. No, this one is for Alfirin."  
Fauwne's eyes shot to her mother. Where even married women not exempt from this order? Alfirin's eyes were downcast. Every now and then, she would raise her eyes to her husband, and Fauwne could see that they were filled with love. What love, Fauwne thought, She would do anything for him-- anything. Her thoughts were interrupted when Saruman spoke.  
"You are a very special lass, Fauwne," He said in a soothing tone. "You were chosen to be the mate of the very first of the Uruk-hai."  
His soft tone did not ring true to Fauwne, and the look on her father's face spoke volumes. This "special" first of the Uruk-hai, Fauwne was sure, was some sort of experiment gone wrong. Her gaze drifted back to the Uruk-hai before her. And if this was the desired outcome... what would the mistake look like?  
  
Fauwne found out the answer to her question a few minutes later when the Uruk-hai arrived. He was as horrible as the others with one marked difference-- while all the other Uruk-hai where dark colored, this one was pale, and somewhat smaller than the others. His face, however, was every bit as hideous as the others, and his strength as formidable. His limbs where perhaps slightly less twisted and thick, more wiry and long. Over all, he made the other Uruk-hai look like princes.  
The bulk grabbed Fauwne's arm and started dragging her from the room. Fauwne was to shocked to resist at first, but as soon as she was out the door, and headed out of the village, she regained her senses and started to struggle. Her attempts were completely futile.  
As she was dragged farther from the village, fear made her struggle more. The creature was losing patience. Twice he threw her to the ground, and twice she tried to run away. Finally, he landed a heavy blow on the side of her head, and everything went black.  
It was dark when Fauwne woke up. Every part of her body ached, and she felt-- she felt-- dirty. She ran to the river and threw herself into the fridged water, but the dirty feeling remained. She knew that all the washing in the world would not cleanse her from this-- this-- evil that she knew was growing in her.  
Fauwne forced her feet to move her back towards the village. Even though she knew that it was at her parents wish that this had happened, she dreaded facing them with her shame. She snuck in the village unnoticed, and made it into her hut unobserved. Inside, she found her mother. She stared at the older woman for a long time, and Alfirin stared back. Finally Alfirin took her daughter in her arms and held her tight. The two women sat in the center of the hut and wept together until they had no more tears to cry. Then Alfirin spoke.  
"It is all over, now, Fauwne. In a year, Saruman and his 'children' will be gone, and in another ten years, we will have earned our land back. You need never think about those monsters ever again. Life will get back to normal." Alfirin seemed to say the words as much for her own comfort as for Fauwne's.  
As Fauwne sat there, though, the words where no comfort to her. They had bought their land back at the price of their pride. And how could life ever be 'normal' after this? Just as she had sat with Galenas and tried to convince her that she could not give up so easily, she now turned her own words on herself. Could she possibly raise this half-human child as her own? Would she be willing to give up her life to save her child's? If she remained in the village, the choice would be taken away from her. Saruman would simply take each child as he was born.  
Fauwne made a decision deep in her heart. Saruman would not turn her son, vile creature that he may be, into another of his mindless killing beasts.  
No sooner had Fauwne decided on this, than Saruman's voice boomed from the street. His call was too strong to resist, and Fauwne found herself and all the other women slowly following the power of his voice out to the street. When all the women had gathered, Saruman started handing out cups of a vile, dark liquid.  
"This potion will insure that your child is a male," Saruman explained. Each woman drank the liquid. Fauwne could not fight it. She too, raised her cup to her lips and drank. She could feel a war start within her. The magic liquid was warring with her body, making demands that none but Eru had right to make. Fauwne was not the only one feeling the effects. One by one, women who could stand the pain no longer sank to the ground in a stupor. Moments before she, too, passed out, Fauwne turned her eyes to Alfirin. Her eyes where once more locked on Crebain, filled with love.  
  
Every day that week, there was a different potion to drink. The women took gladly the drugs, for they had discovered, after the initial pain, it brought sweet oblivion. Fauwne however, found somewhere deep in her resolve, a strength that allowed her to pour out her drink when the others where not looking. She did not want any of Saruman's poisonous magic to taint her-- or her baby. Maybe her child would be a born killer. But.... maybe he would not be. That was a hope she clung to as the months passed.  
Finally, the time came that Fauwne knew she must leave. If she stayed any longer, she would not be able to make it far enough away before the baby came, and she wanted to be sure that Saruman had no way of finding her child and making him into a mindless monster.  
Fauwne slowly started gathering supplies that she would need, careful not to let anyone see what she was doing. The day before she was going to leave, the first baby was born. Galenas' baby. The pain of delivering the huge child was almost more than she could take, but in the end, she delivered the child. The other curious women gathered around to see the first of these "great warrior children", but where horrified by what they saw. The child, which Saruman proudly called a 'half-orc', had the thick, dark hair of the Dunlendings, and strong, smooth limbs of a human, but it's skin was rough and dark, and covered with deep poc marks and oozing sores from the tortuous drugs that had invaded it. It's teeth where jagged and long, disfiguring it's mouth into something like a warg's mouth. It's eyes were close set, giving it a cat-like look. It's nose was hooked, and it's chin pointed. All in all, it was a horrible creature.  
In that instant, Fauwne almost changed her mind about saving her baby. But a mother's love won out, and Fauwne determined to take her child to a place where none would ever see him. He would only know looks of love, and never fear.  
Her resolve was settled even more in the next instant when that horrid looking creature opened it's misshapen mouth and released it's first cry-- the same cry of any baby wanting his mother.  
  
Fauwne left in the dead of night, a trick in itself, for that was when the Uruk-hai where most active. She made her way out of the village undetected, and started walking. She wasn't sure which way she was going, the clouds covered the stars and moon, but it didn't matter. She never planned on returning, anyway.  
All that night she walked. Sometimes, she would become so tired that she could only go a few yards without stopping to rest, but she never gave up. She figured that night she made about ten miles. The next day, driven by desperation, she covered another thirty. The next night, she knew she could go no further before the baby was born. She found a small hollow, recently abandoned by a bear or some other creature, and settled in to give birth.  
  
Fauwne could never say what was hardest-- delivering the child unaided, or forcing herself to look at it. She waited a long moment before reaching for the child. She kept her eyes averted as she cleaned him, trying to see as little of him as possible. Finally, she mustered all of her will power and held the boy out and looked at it-- her son.  
The boy looked like a human for the most part. His tiny limbs seemed perfectly formed, if a little too muscular for one so small. His skin, unlike the other half-orcs, was pale enough to pass for a Dunlending-- Fauwne remembered that his father had also been pale. His teeth, while jagged, where not so long as the Uruk-hai's, so his jaw was not pushed out unnaturally. His nose was slightly hooked, but not disfiguringly so. His ears gently sloped up, much like an Elf's. In fact, Fauwne realized that from a distance, he could easily pass for a Dunlending, where it not for one thing-- His hair was pale red-tinted yellow. It was a stark contrast to the rich black hair of all her people, or even the sickly greenish white of his father.  
As Fauwne looked at her son, she was overjoyed that she had been able to resist the urge to drink those potions that Saruman had given out. Her son was sleeping peacefully, without the pain from countless sores and scars that marred his brethren. Her son, born to kill, was but a baby sleeping trustfully in the arms of his mother.  
  
The next day, Fauwne knew that she must start traveling again. Their supplies were growing low, and each moment of delay allowed Saruman's forces to come nearer. Fauwne was unaware of the fact that, with over a hundred births since she left, Saruman was far to busy to notice she was missing. In fact, the only one to notice she was gone was Alfirin, who held her peace and secretly wished her daughter all the luck she would need to survive.  
Fauwne and her son, whom she had named Culumalda after the beautiful golden-red trees of Gondor, traveled on for another week before their supplies reached the dangerous level that demanded them to find civilization. For the first time since she had started out from Dunland, she looked around her and took stock of where she was. She had headed almost straight north from the moment she left, and now was in the midst of a large forest. Guessing that she must have kept parallel from the coast, she turned her steps west and hoped that when she found the sea, she would find people.  
It was almost two more days before they came across a small trail. They had exhausted the last of their food, and Culumalda was crying for the milk his mother was to weak to produce for him. Hope leapt in Fauwne as she practically ran down the path. To her surprise, it took her to a village after only a few hundred yards.  
"What kind of people stay so close to their homes?" She wondered. The village itself she almost overlooked, it seemed to be just a series of small hills at first. Finally, weary and hungry, she mustered the courage to knock on the first door. After what seemed an eternity, a small, elderly man opened the door, and looked up at her in surprise.  
"Come in, quickly!" he hissed, and pulled her through the tiny door with surprising strength. Once the door was firmly shut behind her, his face relaxed and he motioned her to sit. "I am sorry for my behavior, lass, but the people of the Shire are not used to seeing big folk. Let me put on some tea, and then you can tell me what brings you out here." The little man ran off, and Fauwne was left alone with her whirling thoughts.  
What where these people? Fauwne was sure that the little man came no higher than her knee, although she could not say for certain. She had not been able to stand up straight since entering the house.  
The old man reappeared, bringing a tray covered with a tea service and small muffins. Fauwne fought the urge to swallow all the food whole, and forced herself to relish the taste of fresh food. The man seemed to see her hunger, and waited until her appetite had been slaked before asking any questions.  
"My name is Bilbo Baggins," He started when she looked up from the now empty tray. "And you are in my house. I hate to seem pushy, but my nephew Frodo will be home soon, and I would just as well not try to explain your presence to him. You see, like most Hobbits, he prefers not to know to much about things he shouldn't want to know about. I, on the other hand, learned long ago to love a good adventure, so if you would not mind, you and your child may stay in the back bedroom, and please not let your presence be known to Frodo? Good," He continued without giving her time to answer. "I will see to it that more food is brought to you, and you can remain there until I convince Frodo to go to the Green Dragon with the other young lads. Then we will continue our chat." He ushered her quickly to a door in the back of the house, and before Fauwne could draw a breath to answer, she found herself in a tiny room.  
Fauwne stood hunched over, still not fully understanding everything, but, when she saw the bed, realized that understanding could wait. She curled up on the tiny bed and drifted into a sweet, deep sleep.  
  
Bilbo woke her some hours later. "I am so sorry to disturb you," he said, speaking considerably slower now, "but my nephew has left and I really would like to discover what brings you here."  
Fauwne was glad to comply to her charming host's request. "My name is Fauwne," she started, "and this is my son, Culumalda. We are from the Gondorian side of Dunland. Our village is in the hills there."  
Bilbo's eyes widened in recognition of the place, but he remained silent and she continued.  
"Some time ago, a wizard named Saruman" here Bilbo's eyes grew even larger, "came to our village with a proposition that was to help us regain our lost lands, which where stolen three centuries ago by the Rohirrim. He said he had a great army, but that they where useless in the light."  
"Orcs." Bilbo interrupted. "Saruman has an army of orcs." It was half question, half statement.  
"No," Fauwne replied, "He called them Uruk-hai." Bilbo nodded and didn't press the matter. Fauwne continued. "He said that we had to few warriors to fight, and his warriors, while powerful, would not stand a chance against the superior minds of the Gondorians. So he made a deal with the men of my village, that the women of the village would mate with his Uruk-hai monsters, and the children would be raised as warriors." Fauwne's eyes misted over as she remembered the horror that was her friend's child. "They made the women drink magic water, and it makes the children be born deformed. Saruman will take the children and make them follow him into battle. The others seemed to think it a fair proposition, but," tears fell freely down her face, "I cannot let them take my son! I left so they would not find him. There can be good in him, even if he is one of those creatures!" Fauwne's voice broke and she lowered her head to weep.  
It was good that she did so, or she would have seen the look of horror pass over Bilbo's face as he realized that he was sheltering a half- orc in his house. As it was, Bilbo managed to school his features before Fauwne looked back up. Bilbo knew that she wanted him to assure her that she had done the right thing, but deep inside, he wondered if there could be any good in an orc. He simply said, "It is right that Saruman does not get him. And it is good that you have told me this. If Saruman is raising an army, then Gandalf needs to know about it."  
Inside, Bilbo wondered what he should do. This young girl and her son had won a place in his heart already, and he didn't want to expose her son's origin to those who would have him killed-- even if it was for the best. The news of Saruman's army was news that must be told, but how could he tell it without reveling his source? And what would they do to Culumalda if they found out? As he sat wondering, his hand, as it often did, reached inside his pocket and felt for the reassuring cold gold of the ring he always carried with him.  
  
Bilbo lay awake for long hours that night. In the room to his right, he could hear the soft breathing of his nephew Frodo. Two rooms to the left, he could just make out the soft murmuring of Fauwne to Culumalda. He held himself still, blocked out the sound of Frodo's sleeping, and tuned all of his senses to make out the words Fauwne was saying.  
"Culu," Fauwne whispered, "All will be well, soon. We will find a way to go far, far from all people. To a place where no one shall ever call you cruel names like 'orc' or 'Uruk-hai'. We will live alone if we must, my little Culu. I know we shall be able to make it somehow. I can't explain it to you, but this place gives me peace. It tells me that we will be all right. No matter what happens, Culu, you will always know that your mother loves you. We do not need that evil Saruman, or his terrible henchmen. I will teach you to hunt, and herd, and forage, and walk silently. I will teach you all the knowledge I know. But I will not teach you to fight. You will never need to fight, Culu. Let the children of Saruman fight and die for land they have never seen. The child of Fauwne will live in peace on the land Eru lends him."  
Bilbo turned over in his bed and relaxed. He knew now what he had to do. Fauwne would raise her son so that he would never fight, and he would see that she got the chance.  
  
Bilbo hid Fauwne for the next two days while she regained her strength and he made preparations. He knew how easy it would be to sneak her out if he would loan her his ring.... but he just couldn't. So instead, he made painstaking arraignments. He readied a cart full of hay, and hid a mountain of provisions in it. Then, one night, he snuck Fauwne and Culu into the hay as well. At the crack of dawn, he announced to Frodo that he had to go to Bree, and would be late getting back. Frodo was surprised, but had long since learned to expect anything from his uncle.  
Bilbo set out, but no sooner was he out of sight, he turned the pony's head toward the Blue mountains. When they were alone on the open road, Fauwne and Culu emerged from the hay to sit with Bilbo. It was then that Bilbo told them of his plan.  
"Many years ago," he told them, "There where many Dark Elves who lived to the north of the Shire. Over time, they have left, some to the Undying lands, some to Numenor, some to realms in the south, some just to wander to new lands. Many where wiped out in a great battle that destroyed many kingdoms and sunk most of Bereriland in past ages. But there is one small corner of the land that was spared, called Lindon. The elves, as I have told you, have mostly deserted this place. But it is still beautiful I am told, and a worthy home for a good lass as yourself and a strong boy as your son. Many buildings are still standing as they where centuries ago, so you will have no lack of shelter. The supplies I have given you will help you for perhaps a month, until you learn what is good to hunt and forage. If you should happen across any still living there, I think that you could tell them that your husband was an Elf who was bringing you and your son here when you met with some calamity. They will either take you in or leave you be, either way you will be fine. Culu, I think, could pass for the son of an Elf and a Dunlending. Any Rangers you might encounter will blame the discrepancies on his Elven heritage, and any Elves will blame his Dunlending heritage. All in all, it is a good land were you can live in peace. I do not think you will be disturbed."  
Bilbo's every word had brought more and more comfort to Fauwne. Finally, when the time came that Bilbo must turn back, he kissed Fauwne and Culu both on their foreheads and wished them well. Fauwne stood for a long moment watching the wagon retrace it's way to the Shire before shouldering her supplies and turning towards her unknown home.  
  
Bilbo returned to his house late that night. He crawled into his bed, and sighed contentedly. He would still have to tell Gandalf about Saruman. The ring seemed to itch in his pocket and he drew it out and gazed lovingly at it. No reason to rush to Gandalf, he realized. The next time he was in town would be soon enough. After all, Saruman only had a few babies. It would take years to raise them. Fauwne would have a good head start. In fact, Bilbo thought as he slipped the ring back into his pocket, there was no reason why Fauwne could not have a good twenty year head start.  
Little did Bilbo know that night as he drifted off to sleep, that the ring he held in his pocket, the nephew that slept in the next room, and Saruman's army would be destined to meet to decide the fate of Middle Earth in less than ten years. 


	2. Culumalda

"Culu!" Culu, come here, son!" Culumalda ran at his mother's bidding.  
  
"Here, Mother!" As always, Fauwne marveled at the sound of his little voice. They had been living peacefully in Lindor for six years now, and had yet to meet any of the original inhabitants. She had come to expect the quiet serenity of their forest home. She tried not to think that while her son was a typical six year old, those born at the same time under the influence of Saruman's magic where even now training to become warriors.  
Culu had been sheltered from the truth of his birth. He thought that he was the love child of an Elf and a Dunlending, who had been traveling to their new home in Lindor when a sudden attack had robbed him of his father. He loved to hear the stories of his father, unknowing that each telling brought great pain to his mother as she was forced to lie to her son.  
Now, as he ran happily to the house that Fauwne had fashioned for them out of a corner of a ruined Elven palace, the fact that he was indeed a monster rescued from Saruman by his loving mother was the farthest thought from his mind. He had never seen another being other than his mother. He did not know that his features were twisted and unnatural. His mother told him daily what a handsome lad he was, and in Fauwne's mind, he was-- compared to his father.  
Fauwne stood in the door of their house, watching with a smile as Culu ran to her. She had been right. He would be a good man when he was grown. Here, he was safe from the evils of the outside world. Here, he could remain untouched. Her smile waned, and then turned to a look of fear as her gaze went beyond Culu to the distant line of woods. There, mounted upon a huge stallion, was a fearsome looking creature. His hair was brilliant gold, and his mouth was turned up into a smile. Fauwne could not see the smile, though. She just saw the confusion in his eyes-- eyes that were trained on her son.  
"Culu!" Fauwne shouted in warning, her voice urging her son to greater speed. The boy, unused to having anything to be afraid of, stopped in confusion. Fauwne saw her mistake, and rushed toward her son as fast as her feet would carry her. "Culu, run!" she shouted again.  
Culu shook himself out of his daze and raced for his mother.  
  
He looked at the pair, confusion evident on his face. He had never encountered people here before. And stranger still, the woman was displaying evident fear of him. Why were they afraid? Did they have something to hide? He started toward them, determined to find some answers.  
  
Fauwne reached Culu about three seconds before the rider caught them. She threw herself over her son, blocking him from any blows-- and from sight. The rider stopped mere feet from the two and dismounted in one fluid movement. The horse skittered to the side, and Fauwne, watching from the corner of her eye, saw him stand before them with his arms crossed and a dark look in his eyes. Her gaze was drawn to his features. He had pointed ears, a sharply defined chin, and a hooked nose under his lynx-like eyes. Sobs swept over Fauwne as she realized the worst had happened. One of Saruman's children had found them.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Fauwne was surprised at the sound his voice. It was not rough and harsh as she had expected. Instead, it was strong and soft all at once.  
"This is our home." Fauwne hated that she sounded so defensive.  
"I have lived here for many years, and have never seen you before. In fact, I have never seen any of the race of Men here before." the creature told her.  
"We have lived here for six years. Why are you attacking us now?" Fauwne answered heatedly.  
"I have not been here in thirty years. I went south to visit friends. I did not mean to frighten you, but you are living in my house."  
  
Fauwne reconsidered the man before her. He did not look to be thirty years old, yet he had lived here and been gone for thirty years. Pieces started to fall into place. Fauwne had never seen an Elf before. She considered him again in a whole new light. Her son did not look so different from the Elf. But as the Elf's mouth widened into a smile, she realized that no Elf had the jagged teeth that Culu had.  
"We are sorry. When we arrived, we thought this was the best kept building in town, but it was obviously abandoned." Fauwne was still hunched over Culu, not wanting the man to see him. "We will leave as soon as we have gathered our things." She turned, still with Culu hidden by her body, and rushed back towards the house.  
"Wait!" The Elf called back to them. He caught them in just a few steps, and put a hand on Fauwne's shoulder, pulling her upright. Culu ducked behind his mother's skirt, but the Elf payed him no mind. "I did not mean to throw you from your home," the man said gently. "How were you to know that this house was not abandoned?" He smiled at her again. "My name is Annun. Who are you?"  
"I am Fauwne." Fauwne offered no further explanation, so Annun, still gripping her arm, asked her.  
"And who is this bright young lad?" Culu peeked with one eye from behind his mother. He had never seen another person, and this experience was both frightening and exciting. That his mother was afraid was obvious, but he liked this tall stranger.  
"My name is Culu." Culu stepped from behind Fauwne, all fear gone. He started to smile in return of Annun's smile, but Fauwne slapped a hand over his mouth. Culu looked up, confused. He had never seen his mother like this before.  
Annun tried not to notice Fauwne's action. Instead, he turned to talk with Culu and started walking towards the house, still pulling Fauwne along with him by her arm.  
"Culu, that is a nice name. Perhaps it has a story?"  
"Yes," Culu was happy to tell Annun, "My name is Culumalda, after the color of my hair. It was the name of the trees where I was born. What is your name's meaning? I have never heard that word before. It is not in the common speech. Are you an Elf? My Momma told me much about Elves. My father was an Elf."  
Fauwne could only pray that Culu would stop talking. He appeared determined to tell Annun his whole life's story. Luckily, Culu did stop talking so Annun could answer his questions.  
"Yes, I am an Elf." Annun told him. "My name means 'sunset'. I was born after my father was killed in battle, so my mother named me in her sorrow before she, too, died. I am the last Elf of Lindor. This was once a great kingdom, in my father's day." He looked around wistfully, as if he could still see the streets teeming with busy people. His hold on Fauwne relaxed, and she took that opportunity to pull free.  
Fauwne could not leave, though. Culu was watching Annun as if he was a god, there was no way she could pull him away and to safety.  
Culu broke the silence. "My father died in battle, too. He died protecting me and my mother as we traveled here to live." He spoke matter of factly, as if it was law that every father should die in battle. "It was wargs," Culu continued, "They attacked us at night. Father killed five before the largest of all attacked him from the back!" his small face was animated, and Culu was being drawn into his own story. "While Father battled that one, another came and grabbed the basket I was sleeping in. My momma screamed, and tried to grab me before I was eaten, but another warg came at her. Just when all seemed lost, Father killed the leader of the pack, and turned to fight the one attacking Momma. Momma grabbed me, but the other warg helped his brother, and, though Father killed them both, he was wounded and he died." Culu finished dramatically. "Then Mamma took me here, and we have lived here ever since. The end."  
Annun listened silently to the boy's tale, and Culu had finished just as they reached the door to the house, so he went on inside, Fauwne and Culu trailing behind him.  
"You have done wonders," Annun told Fauwne. "I left this place in shambles." He walked to the fire, where a stew pot was simmering and emitting delightful smells. He leaned over and breathed in deeply. "Umm, it has been two months since I last ate food not prepared by my own hands. I fear even lembas can grow old." He turned to Fauwne expectantly.  
Fauwne sighed in defeat. Might as well keep him happy, if he was determined to stay, she reasoned. "Please, sit down." she told him. "I will get another bowl."  
Annun sat down, a contented smile covering his face.  
Culu sat down across from him, and grinned happily back.  
Fauwne waited for the inevitable comment as Culu's teeth were seen.  
Annun looked at Culu carefully. He leaned forward toward the boy, his eyes narrowing. Finally, he spoke. "Fauwne, you better hurry up that stew. Culu looks ready to eat a horse."  
Fauwne caught his eyes over Culu's head. Now it was out. She knew that after supper, she would have a lot of fast talking to do if she was going to help Culu. But deep inside, she was proud of the man who, though he might yet deem her son a monster, would not say so to a child's loving face.  
  
Later that night, after Culu was in bed and Annun had invited himself to stay, Annun and Fauwne sat across from each other at the table. Annun sat patiently, waiting for the explanation he was sure was in the making.  
Fauwne suddenly realized that she owed him no explanation. A stranger had invaded her house, eaten her food, claimed her sleeping quarters, and scrutinized her son. Now he was wanting an explanation about the fact that Culu did not meet his standards for looks! Her anger boiled over in that instant, and a second later it reached Annun.  
"Who do you think you are? You have come into my home and felt my hospitality, and now, just because my son does not possess a perfect face, you think it is your right to judge him? My son might not possess the beauty of an Elf, but he possesses a heart of gold and a mind of steel. He knows more about love and kindness than all of your kind, and holds more goodness than Eru granted the eldar!" She finished with a flourish, lowering her voice only after realizing her son slept in the next room. She had risen from her seat, and now sat back down with a forced calm on her face.  
Annun considered her words thoughtfully. For all practical purposes, she did have a point, but he could not resist watching her face flush again at his answer.  
"Well," He stated calmly, "This is my house. And it is the law in Lindor that royalty may enjoy the hospitality of any in the land. As for your son, I never questioned his good heart. I simply, out of concern for my kingdom's well-being, wondered about the wisdom of allowing a short- tempered woman and her half-orc son remain here." Annun waited for the expected retort, but instead, Fauwne turned very pale and sank back further in her seat.  
"We will leave," she said submissively, "but please, do not call him an half-orc. He is so much more..." tears flooded Fauwne's eyes and her voice trailed off.  
Annun had not expected this response. He had no clue how to react. For what he was sure was the first time in two thousand years, he was at a loss for words. Finally he regained his tongue. "No!" he almost shouted the word, shocking Fauwne out of her seat. "Please, I didn't mean to upset you. Do not cry." He stood and walked around the table to her. "I beg your humblest pardon. I have exhibited behavior that would have shamed the good name of my father. You and your son are welcome to live here for as long as you wish. For sure, your son is a more noble man than I already." He bowed before her.  
Now it was Fauwne's turn to be shocked speechless. She stood staring dumbly at Annun for a long moment.  
To Annun, she looked very young in that instant. "How old are you?" He questioned her unexpectedly.  
"I am twenty years old," Fauwne told him.  
"Twenty!" Annun said, shock written across his face. "I had forgotten how it was with mortal men. I have reached and passed twenty a thousand times over!" To himself he added, 'yet at your first twenty, you have a son, a life, a past worth bearing. I have nothing but the ruins of years gone by, and naught to show for the future.'  
"How long do Elves live?" Fauwne wondered outloud.  
"Until we choose to die," Annun said cryptically, "or the choice is taken from us." In a lighter tone, he added, "Mostly, we choose to leave Arda when we are weary of years that bring nothing but repetition. Perhaps even I shall sail the seas soon, and you may have this house-- all my earthly treasure."  
Fauwne felt bad. He was deciding whether his life had any purpose, and she was hoping that when he left, there would be no one left to disturb her and Culu.  
Annun noticed the look on her face, and read it easily. "My dear lady," he said pompously with a deep bow and a stricken look on his face, "If it would ease your mind, allow me to this very moment jump from a cliff, thus insuring your inheritance!"  
At this Fauwne had to laugh, and Annun joined her. As the hours flew, Fauwne found herself sharing with Annun the story surrounding Culu's birth, and her flight through the shire. Annun's respect grew for her with each word she spoke.  
"That," he stated when she had finished her story, "is a reason to live. Be glad. In two decades, you have found more reason to live than many Elves do in two millennia." After a second of silence, Annun thoughtfully added, "You cannot expect him never to learn to fight, though. Culu must learn self-defense to survive in this cruel world. All you can do is temper his strength with wisdom."  
"My wisdom is small. My people did not care for knowledge beyond survival. Our one desire has always been for the land of our fathers. Now..." she ended with a sigh, "we have lost all the wisdom we did have in that pursuit."  
"Let me help." Annun was as shocked by his words as Fauwne was, but he continued, his resolve deepening. "I have done nothing of use in my thousands of years. Let me train Culu in ways of war, and in wisdom. He has given you purpose, please, let him give me a purpose, too."  
Fauwne considered his offer, and saw the wisdom in his words. All of Saruman's children would be great fighters. If they were found, their only hope of survival could be Culu's equal strength and superb mind. And, as long as Culu was taught that violence was not the answer, his ability to fight could be cultivated as just one more side of her son's well-rounded education.  
"Agreed." Fauwne shook hands with Annun gravely.  
Annun took her proffered hand with equal gravity. He had just undertaken to raise the son of an Orc, breed through Saruman's power. What could cause one to be more sober than that?  
  
The next morning, bright and early, Culu's training began. Annun woke him before light, telling him that they were going to 'play a game'. Culu had never had a playmate, and with the innocent trust of any six year old, he gladly followed Annun out into the hazy dark.  
"All right, Culu, we are going to play 'hide and seek'. I am going to hide in the woods, and you must find me."  
Annun had to know exactly what traits Culu had inherited from his father-- and with the ease that Culu found him, he knew that good night sight was one of them. Next they played tag, so Annun could test Culu's speed and endurance-- both of which he found extraordinary. Next, he had Culu try to sneak up on him. Annun was amazed at how much noise the boy made! Here was definitely an area that could use improvement.  
Over the next few weeks, Culu fell into his new routine. Each morning he would rise early and spend two hours 'playing' with Annun. Then they would return to the house for breakfast, and the rest of the morning was devoted to study. Culu was fast to pick up reading and writing in the common speech, and Annun started challenging him further with learning Silvan Elvish and a few words of the other languages he had picked up over the years. Culu loved this time of day, but he loved even more the afternoons. Each day, after they had eaten lunch, he and Annun would go to the ruins of a courtyard deep within the palace and Annun would instruct him in the ways of war. It was obvious that Culu was born to fight. Annun soon found his young charge posing a real challenge to his own memory of fighting techniques. Everything Annun taught him, he soaked in and begged for more.  
Annun would have begun to fear his reasoning in training Culu were it not for the way Culu spent his evenings. Each night, Annun would read to Culu and Fauwne out of one of the many books housed in the ruined city. Fauwne enjoyed this time as much as Culu did. Even Annun found himself looking forward to the evening sessions with books he had read as a child. After Annun had read, he would drill Culu on the nuggets of wisdom and knowledge in the book. He would steer Culu's answers so that the child understood the futileness of war, and the power of peace. He would expound on the consequences of evil, and the rewards of love. Culu would often ask questions about different wars and kings of the past, and Annun's answer was always the same. "A great king is a wise king. A wise king avoids war, for war can corrupt and ruin even a great king." Then he would look around him thoughtfully, drawing Culu's attention to the fact that at that very moment, they sat in what had once been a great city, devastated by war.  
Culu would nod his head thoughtfully, and then Fauwne would tuck him into bed.  
Annun was often still awake when Fauwne returned, and they would further discuss the reading or Culu's progress before seeking their own rest.  
One night, almost a year after Annun had started training Culu, the Elf lay awake in his bed for a long time. He had noticed something that day that was troubling him. In vain he tried to shake off the feeling of impending doom. It hung over him like a cloak, robbing him of air. Finally, he rose and walked quietly out of the house. He breathed deeply the night air, but even that could not clear the fog that surrounded him. He ran into the woods, safely out of hearing range of the house, and let loose one thunderous word. "NO!" He listened as his yell echoed hollowly against the trees, turning his cry into a ghostly omen.  
He stood until the last echo had died, then, before returning to his room, whispered into the night, "No. I won't believe it. It cannot be true," But with each pounding beat of his heart as he walked back to the house, the words echoed in his mind, 'it's true! true...true...true... true....'  
  
The next day, Annun told Fauwne and Culu that he was leaving. Culu cried, and Fauwne tried to coax an explaination out of him, but none came. Two hours after his unexpected announcement, Annun mounted his horse and rode away without looking back.  
  
"What will we do now," Fauwne did not even know that she was speaking. She and Culu still stood watching where Annun had faded into the distant horison. Annun's presence had become, well-- familiar. Needed. He had renued her own purpose and faith in her child.  
Culu squeezed his mother's hand. "We will do what we did before." Culu's voice seemed old beyond his years, and Fauwne looked down at him in question. "We got what we wanted from him, and now he is gone. We will do what we did before-- better." Culu turned his eyes back toward the horizon, but Fauwne's eyes stayed locked on her son.  
Culu had seemed so old just then. So world-weary. So harsh. So-- orcish. For the first time, as Fauwne watched the smoldering black coals that were Culu's eyes, she feared her son. 


	3. Annun

Annun rode hard. His horse, which had been long neglected, was more than happy to run with his master as in years past. Annun really had no definite direction at first, only a general southerly direction. He ran until his mind had cleared and his horse was panting for breath, then he rested before setting a more leisurly course to Lothlorian. He had just returned from a visit to his friends, but there was no reason he could not go back. He let his horse plod slowly along the trail. After all, he had all the time in the world.  
  
Leaving had been the wrong thing to do. He knew this now. He had been in Lothlorian for over a month, the longest month of his life, he was sure. He knew that he had been wrong to leave. Not a day passed that he did not think of Culu-- and Fauwne. Where they all right? Was Culu still training? Was Fauwne ok?  
As much as he thought of them, he could not go back. Returning would take too much explaination that he was not ready to give yet. It would be immpossible to make them understand. No matter what, he had to stay away.  
Beautiful Lothlorian had lost it's charm for Annun. He left after only a short stay, hoping that a visit to his dear friend Elrond would put everything right. Annun made the trip to Rivendell in record time. His urgency pushed his horse to rival Shadowfax for speed. It was with great joy that at long last, he stood in Elrond's study facing his old friend.  
"Annun! It is so good to see you again so soon." Elrond hugged his friend. "What has brought you back to Rivendell?"  
"I needed to speak to you. You are a dear friend and I am in dire need of advise that I think you can provide."  
"Ah, another come for advise." Elrond's voice was laden with care. "I am not so sure that I can help you, my friend. As much as I wish to, I feel as if there is no advise left in me. You have missed much in the one short year you were gone. A dark cloud has dimmed the future for all of us."  
"What is it, Elrond?"  
"Sauron. His spirit dwells over Mordor, and his eye is searching for his ring of power." A deep sigh excaped him. "Mithrandir assured me it is safe, but I fear that no one is safe until the ring is destroyed."  
"Mithrandir is very wise. If he says that it is safe, than it is safe."  
"Galadrial fears that it is not so." Elrond turned dark eyes on his friend. "You have come from Lothlorian. Is all well there?"  
"It is untouched. Galadrial did seem restless, but any so long in Middle Earth would become so. Even I wonder if it is not best to seek the land of the Valar, and I am far younger than her."  
"You are not the only one, Annun. Many have already begun leaving. Many more will follow. I have seen it. I., too, will go-- I can feel it approaching. My years on Middle Earth are coming to a close..." his voice trailed off. "I fear what I will be forced to leave behind."  
Annun could see in his face that he was far away in thought. "You speak of Arwen."  
Elrond noticed that Annun had not asked a question, but made a statement. He nodded in acnoledgement. "Yes, I speak of Arwen, my daughter. I fear that she might yet choose Estel-- whom I love as a son-- and with him, choose death."  
Annun sat quietly with his friend for a long moment, lost in his own thoughts. Finally, he spoke. "Where is Estel?"  
"He rides with the Rangers. He is so young, yet his lack of years he hopes to atone for with many adventures. She could do worse," Elrond said suddenly, "Aragorn is a fine man and is destined to be a great king. If only he was truely Estel, I could give my blessing!"  
"So you would deny Arwen happiness?"  
"I would deny her death! She has happiness." His words sounded weak to his own ears. After another moment of silence, Elrond changed the subject. "Have you seen Elladan and Elrohir yet? I know they would wish to see you."  
  
For the next month, Annun stayed with Elrond's family, yet he never raised the question that was ever on his mind. Elrond never returned the subject to the advise that had brought Annun to his house, but that was fine with Annun. He was not so sure that he would like the answer he would receive.  
Annun left after only a short visit. His heart could not seem to find rest. Always his thoughts turned to the two people in his house, and their well-being. Had he left them to their deaths? Was he to be the ultimate cause of what Fauwne had tried so hard to prevent? Annun knew he could never forgive himself if Culu turned from the right because of him, yet he could not return. "Is life so dear to me?" He wondered as he rode yet another long, lonely trail. "Is my own life worth this much to me?" It was a question he could never seem to answer.  
  
Elrond could not beleive what he was hearing. Yet, Mithrandir stood before him in his study, and the fire in his eyes left no room for doubt. "Gather everyone you can! We must do what we can to raise an army greater than Saruman's. I am going to retreive the ring. We must decide now what to do with it, before it is too late!"  
Elrond set to work immediately. The first person he thought of was Annur. He summoned a messanger. "Gather the ten fastest horses and the ten best trackers. Get Annur back here!"  
Only after that was taken care of did he turn to gathering other influential Elves and men. The other messangers he sent out at a more leisurly pace. No matter what happened, he just knew that he wanted Annun there to face it with him.  
  
It took the messangers over a week to find Annun. Annun had been wondering through the forest with no particular direction. When they had found him, it was only the matter of two days travel to return to Elrond's house. There, they waited for the return of Mithrandir and the bit of metal that was the cause of so much trouble.  
Annun did not like the wait. Each moment of inactivity left him far too much time to think. It had been almost a year sence he had left Culu and Fauwne, and they still plauged his every waking thought. Finally, the people who they had been waiting for arrived. Annun watched as the fate of the ring was decided. A company should take it to Mt. Doom to destroy it, the final verdict was. Elrond turned to Annun. "Will you lead this fellowship in this dangerous task?" he whispered for Annun's ears only.  
Annun's eyes took on a distant look. This was the purpose that he had waited for so long. This was an adventure that could put him in the history books. This was something he could die for. Purpose. A purpose worth it all. Suddenly, his mind flew back to a dark-haired woman and her flame- haired son. He had once told her that he needed a purpose, and she had provided one for him. A purpose that was worth his life. In that instant he knew that if he was to die, he wanted it to be for a far nobler cause than war. Love.  
"No, Elrond." Annun told him. Elrond was surprised by his answer. Annun had seemed so restless, he was sure that this was just the thing for him. He gave Annun another questioning look, but Annun's face was adament. "No. I have chosen." He got up and left the gathering, unnoticed by all but Elrond, who watched him go with a questioning look, and Estel, who watched him with a knowing one.  
  
It took almost three weeks for Annun to reach Lindor, and every second of delay ripped at his heart. When he arrived, no one was in sight. His mind whirled with every horrible situation that could have occurred, and he dismounted and hit the ground running and yelling. "Fauwne! Culu! Hello, Fauwne! Culu! Are you here?!"  
Culu and Fauwne came from behind a wall, fear of some unknown danger on Fauwne's face, something between joy and anger on Culu's. Fauwne relaxed slightly when she saw that it was Annun, but he could see that her gaurd was still up.  
"Annun." Culu spoke coldly, and Annun was shocked at the deepness of his voice. The boy was almost nine years old, he realized suddenly. Little time meant so much to mortals. He was drug from his reverie by that childishly deep voice again, "Why did you come back?"  
Pain that he knew he deserved flooded Annun. He had left suddenly. He owed them an explaination. "I came back because I should have never left." Annun said softly to the little boy.  
Releif filled Culu's eyes. "What took you so long to figure that out?" He said jovialy, all hard feelings gone in what Annun thought was an immpossibly short time.  
"I guess it is just one more thing that Elves do slowly, Culu. You will have to teach me to speed up." Culu smiled at that. "Now, I must speak to your mother, Culu." He patted the boy's shoulder, amazed again at how much he had grown. Culu smiled a knowing smile and ran off.  
Annun faced Fauwne. Her eyes held confusion, anger, but mostly hurt. Her hurt bit into Annun's heart like a dagger. "Why did you leave," Fauwne asked, "Why did you make Culu love you then leave? You broke his heart. I feared that his anger would make him as his father was-- and you had trained him to kill. Why? Did you plan to do this to him?" Before he could answer, she continued. "Well, it didn't work. Culu is good, no matter what you try to do to him!" She turned from him to hide her tears.  
Annun wished he could turn back time, but he could not. Instead, he determined to make her understand-- even if it took the rest of his life.  
"Fauwne," he said gently, putting a hand on her sholder and turning her to face him, "I left because I was afraid. I knew that I was falling in love with you."  
Fauwne looked up, surprised at his words.  
"I told you once that an Elf only died if he chose to-- I never explained. When an Elf loves a mortal, he must choose between immortality or life as a mortal. I was torn by that decision. I knew the cost of love-- and now I know that the price I was paying to be seperated from you was more than death. I have made my choice. My fate is tied to yours." He kneeled before her, a heartbroken man. "Now I ask your forgiveness, and your decision. Will you accept me, such as I am?" Annun waited anxiously for her answer. He had aready given up his chance for immortalily, but she could still refuse his suit.  
"Annun," Fauwne was amazed by his words. She had thought he had left because he could not love Culu-- or her. Now, she knew the truth. "Annun," she said again, kneeling beside him, "I would have taken you gladly a year ago. Now, I feel honored that you would give up life for me. I have loved you, even in your absence-- you still have immortality, Annun. You will live in my heart and the heart of Culu forever."  
Annun took her in his arms and shared a long, sweet kiss of promice with her. They only had one short life ahead of them, but ohh, what a life! 


	4. Eardil

Culumalda streached and yawned, showing his teeth. Anyone who did not know him would have thought he was preparing to attack with those visious jagged teeth, but his mother and father, who stepped out the door to join him a moment later, did not even seem to notice his dangerous appearance.  
"How are you, Mother?" Culumalda kissed his mother gently on the cheek. She smiled brightly and kissed him back.  
"Very well, son. Did you sleep well?"  
"Yes. How about you, Father?" Culumalda turned to Annun, his stepfather of seven years.  
"Very well, Culu." Fauwne went to prepare breakfast, and Annun and Culu walked away from the house. They had kept the same routine from the time that Culu had started his training. The only difference, now, was that in the evening reading time, sometimes Culu or Fauwne would read instead of Annun. Both had become fluent and ravious readers, a large step from the illiterate hill-girl and a half-orc misfit that they had once been.  
Culu was fifteen now, and as large as a full grown man. Fauwne wondered occasionally about telling him of his true orgins, but since Annun had joined their little family, Culu had seemed to have forgotten all about his father and the stories he once thrived on. Annun's precence took away the boy's need for a father-- and Fauwne was content to let it stay that way.  
Annun treated Culu like his own son, even to the point of refering to him as his heir to Lindor-- not that that was much of an inheritance anymore. The land was still firtle and beautiful, but the buildings stood in ruin and abandoned disrepair. It was obvious that except for the small family, there had been no people in this land for a long, long time.  
Sometimes, Culu would wonder about the world outside their little domain. Were there really places out there like he read about in the books? Places where thousands of people lived together, places where there where great ships and wonderful inventions, kings and sorcerors, happy children and beautiful women, strange creatures and huge monsters? Often, he would sit and dream about what was really out there. He found it hard to picture the places he read about, the vision aways came back to open, rolling plains and forested hills surrounding an ancient city where three people lived. Home. As small and set apart as it was, it was home, and for that, Culu loved it.  
  
Bright and early the next morning, Culu rose from his bed, stumbled into the great hall, and streached his arms above his head. He was very tired, and his mouth widened into a huge yawn. As his mucsles relaxed, he turned to the window and glanced out, expecting to see the same thing he saw every day. He didn't.  
Culu gasped. There was a rider coming! His sharp eyes easily picked up the sutle differences that told him the rider was an Elf. Behind him, he could hear his mother and father approaching, but he did not turn around. He kept his eyes glued to the rider.  
Annun came up beside him to see what had captured his attention, and let out a gasp of his own. The rider was much nearer now. Annun ran out the door towards the rider, leaving Fauwne and Culu to wander what was going on.  
Fauwne was tempted to tell Culu to hide, but he was to old to be told to hide with no explaination. They stood uncertainly in the doorway.  
"Eardil!" Annun yelled. The rider dismounted and ran to meet his friend.  
"Annun! It must have been three hundred years since I have seen you." He embraced Annun happily. "You usually wonder by every decade or so, so I thought I would come see what was keeping you."  
"Ah, much has changed, my friend, but you, you look just the same as the tiny lad of five hundred when I last saw you."  
"So, tell me, why have you not come by?"  
"Of late, I grew busy trying to find a reason to stay in Middle Earth. I felt a strong call to take to the sea." Annun said hesitantly. "Then more recently, I have found all the reason I would ever need to stay here forever." Annun glanced over his sholder, drawing Eardil's attention to the two figures in the doorway. "You have not yet met my wife and son, Eardil."  
Eardil looked shocked. "You had a son, and did not bother to tell me? Why, he looks to be at least as old as I am. How could this be?"  
"He is a mortal, as is his mother," Annun said, "and as am I."  
This time, Eardil was shocked speechless.  
  
That day, Culu, and Fauwne grew aquainted with Eardil. He was a young man, by Elvish standards, only eight hundred years old. Culu and he seemed destained to become good friends. The family spoke of many different things with Eardil, minus two very important things-- Culu's real father, and why Annun avoided metioning the sea, coast, or sailing vessels at all cost. The next day, however, both of these where destained to come out.  
Culu shared his room with Eardil, for they had not bothered to rebuiled any of the other rooms of the palace over the years. As was his custom, Culu rose early and breathed deeply of the fresh air, and went into the other, higher room to streach out his sore muscles.  
Eardil followed after him, and watched as he reached his hands almost to the ceiling with an unnatural flexibility in his huge body. His mouth fell open as Culu turned and he saw two rows of evil, warg-like teeth.  
Culu smiled at him. "Good morning, Eardil. I hope you slept well?"  
Eardil could not find words for a proper responce. Instead, he just blurted out, "Culu! You have the teeth of a warg!" as if Culu did not know the shape of his own teeth.  
Culu's smile faded. He had never seen a warg, so he did not know what one's teeth looked like, but he had read much of the evil creatures. He did not like Eardil's insinuation in the least. He was about to make his retort when he heard Annun behind him.  
"Eardil! How dare you speak to my son that way! You are a guest in this house." Eardil wilted under his anger like a small child.  
"I am sorry, Annun, I was just, um, startled." he answered repentively.  
The matter was dropped, but it stayed in Culu's mind as the day wore on. When the evening reading time came, Culu requested that he be able to read.  
Annun nodded, and Culu retrived a book and started to read. Fauwne's eyes widened as she realised he had chosen a beastery, a book of all the creatures of Middle Earth.  
Culu read first about Elves. Next, a chapter on men, and finally, he turned to a chapter on the evil creatures of Middle Earth.  
"I believe it is time for bed," Annun anounced, but Culu would have none of it. He started to read down the list of various monsters, from dragons, to ravens, to the ghost men, and the wargs-- and reached a section on a creature called an 'orc'.  
"Orcs are a torcored form of Elf," he read, "who where created by Melkor and forced to do his evil bidding. They where created in the first age of the stars. Their only plesure is the pain of others. They are hidious creatures, broad and bowlegged, short and dark-colored. They have great jagged fangs, and narrow eyes. Their arms are long and strong, and they are known as the feircest of warriors." Culu read on, and Fauwne breathed a sigh of releif. The discription sounded nothing like Culu. Her fear returned as he reached the next creature, though.  
"Uruk-hai are a new form of orc created by Sauron in the Third age. They where dark-colored, taller and stronger than the orcs, and unafraid of light. They where breed for their leadership capabilities." Annun desperately tried to see the cover of the book, hoping that it was written in the third age. His hopes where dashed as he glimpsed a bit of the cover. This was one of the new books he had procured in reacent years. In fact, at the same time he had gotten a copy of "The Red Book of Westmarch" and "There and Back Again". He had hidden these books away, so Fauwne could read the accounts of her friend Bilbo Baggins without Culu happening upon them. However, it seemed he had happened upon one of the books.  
Culu continued, "The most fearsome orc of all was created in the fourth age. This was called an 'half-orc' and was a hibred of the Uruk-hia and men. It is said that the Dunlendings made an evil pact with the wizard Sauman that resulted in the breeding of Uruk and Women. These creatures where considered exterminated less than twelve years after their creation."  
  
"Please, son,"Fauwne had tears in her eyes. "Please stop reading." Culu put the book down and turned toface his mother.  
"My father was not an Elf, was he." It was a statement, not a question.  
Eardil sat listening quietly, doing the smart thing for once in his life. Tears ran freely down Fauwne's face. "You were not like the others," she said softly. "There was good in you. I just knew it."  
Culu's sholders sunk in defeat. It was what he had expected to hear, but that made it no easier. "I am a monster," He whispered to himself.  
"No, you are not a monster!" Fauwne's tears gave way to anger. "Saruman was a monster. Your father was a monster. But you are not a monster!"  
"Son," Annun said softly, "A monster is not the way you look, or how you where born. A monster is what you choose to do with the spirit Eru has given you. If I so chose, I could be a monster." He told him. "But I am not. And you are not. You chose right, my son. You are no monster. You have your mother's spirit-- and your father's looks."  
Culu sat dumbly for a moment, taking it all in. "Why do I have pale skin and red hair?" He asked Fauwne.  
"Your father was not like the other Uruk-hia. He was-- a mistake." Fauwne hated telling Culu this. Bad enough he was a half-orc, but he was half of a misformed orc!  
Culu seemed to take it all in stride. "That is why we are here," he suddenly realized, "You did not want me to know, and you knew any one who had seen an orc would recognize me."  
"That was it at first," Annun put in, "but this is our home. I would have never have met you and your mother if you had not been here."  
Culu stood to his feet. "I think I want to go to bed now," he said, aready walking off.  
Annun and Fauwne looked at each other, then silently left the room as well.  
Eardil glanced around the empty room, then went outside to make a pallet by his horse. He felt like he had just opened up a huge can of worms that would start to stink by morning.  
  
When morning came, Eardil dreaded to face Culu. But Culu greeted him as if nothing was wrong. "Hello, Eardil," he said cheerily. "I hope you slept well. I noticed you stayed with your horse."  
"Yes,"Eardil did not want to admit that he had been afraid to face Culu, so he made up another reason to be outside. "I plan to leave soon, and I always like to spend quality bonding time with my horse before I make a long trip." It sounded rediculous to his own ears, but he stuck with it. "He is so sencitive, you know."  
Culu tried not to laugh, but failed miserably. His parents entered to see him roaring with laughter and Eardil standing with a peculiar look on his face.  
Annun recoginised the look on Eardil's face. "So, you managed to fit that oversized foot in your mouth yet again," he commented. "you are still the same young man you were when I last saw you." Even without knowing the reason, Annun joined Culu in laughing. He knew Eardil too well not to know that Eardil had spoken without thinking again.  
It turned out to be a perfect ice braker, and an opening for Culu's next startaling announcement. "I'm glad that you are ready to travel on," he said seriously, "for I had hoped to go with you."  
Fauwne covered her mouth with her hands, and Annun calmly placed his hands on her shoulders. "We knew this day would come," he reminded her gently.  
"But not so soon." Fauwne could only stare at her son-- so soon a man.  
  
Two days later, Eardil and Culu left a tearful Fauwne and a somber Annun behind them as they set off for far lands and adventures. Eardil took it with the same cocky recklessness he took everything with, but to Culu, this was an adventure that would open his eyes to the world-- not a trip to be taken lightly.  
Culu was well educated, having learned much at the knee of his stepfather, but he knew he lacked much experiance. Eardil's tales of cities full of people made Culu realize that he had only seen three people in his whole life-- that he remembered. He supposed there must have been others.  
As the weary miles passed, Culu asked Eardil many questions about what they would soon see. How should he act? What should he do? What was dangerous, and what was safe? Eardil gladly answered all of his new friend's questions, often with grand embellishments. Finally, Culu's questions turned more personal.  
"Eardil," He said quietly one day. "It means 'devotion to the sea' doesn't it?"  
"Yes." Eardil's voice was slightly chopped, but Culu didn't notice.  
"Why that name? Did you live near the sea?" Culu asked.  
"No." Eardil said sharply. Culu still didn't get the picture.  
"Well, then, why that name? It is not a very common one, I do not think. I never read it in a book. Was it the name of your father?"  
"NO!" This time, it was impossible for Culu to miss the hint. He rode silently beside Eardil for a moment, then timidly asked, "Eardil?"  
Eardil sighed.  
"I'm sorry." Culu said repentively.  
Eardil's anger fell away, and Culu was surprised to see saddness there. Culu did not press the matter, but in a moment Eardil began to talk.  
  
"Culumalda. What a name. 'golden-red' after the most loved tree of Gondor. Did you ever notice that parents name their children after what they love? Or name them something that shows how much they love the child? Your mother must have loved those trees-- and you. She gave up the trees for you." he paused for a moment, then continued. "My mother loved the sea-- but not me. She could not be saddled with a baby on the long voyage, and rather than wait until I had grown, she left me. I was only a little more than a decade when she and my father left. I learned quickly to fend for myself on the city streets, but I never learned to control my mouth. I said the wrong thing to the wrong person, and found myself taken to a home for the abandoned. I stayed there for a hundred years-- a long, long one hundred years. Death would have brought freedom in those days. I longed for adventure-- like my parents. I ran away and determined to hide in the woods, become as a green elf-- forsake the light. But then I met Annun. He gave me a start, a place to stay. He would come by every few years and see that I was well, but he told me that he did not want the responcibilty of a son. That is why he never offically would call me son. Just 'Eardil', the name my mother gave me in her longing and love for the sea." He stoped for a moment. "Your mother must be a very special person-- to give up every thing for you, and to convince Annun to give up immortality for her. Would that Eru had granted me a mother like your's. Thankfully, he did grant me a stepfather like your's."  
Culu understood a little better now Eardil's responce to finding out about him and Fauwne. And his responce to any mention of the sea. In his mind, he wondered about the heartache that must come to Eardil every time he heard his own name. It was a constant reminder of what his mother had held dear-- and what she had not.  
"I'm sorry, Eardil." Culu said softly, and the matter was dropped.  
  
The next day, Culu rose early. It was still dusky outside, so he crept a little away from camp so he wouldn't wake Eardil. His mind was on the conversation of the day before. He sat in the woods for about thirty minutes, just considering different aspects of the problem. Finally, he made up his mind, and went back into the camp.  
"Rise and shine!" He called out to Eardil. "It is time to move, Arheru."  
Eardil looked up at him groggily. "What did you say?"  
"I said, it's time to move, Arheru."  
Eardil stared at him dumbly for a second. "My name isn't Arheru. Or have you forgotten?"  
"I've been thinking." Culu planted one hand on his jaw in mock contimplation. "Eardil really does not fit you. So, I thought I would call you Arheru."  
Eardil continued to stare at him, without comprehention. "Arheru?" in that moment, understanding hit, and laugter shook Eardil. "Arheru? 'High Lord'? That is quite a name, Culu!"  
Culu smiled. "Glad you like it. You'll be hearing a lot of it."  
"Why's that?"  
"Because when we get around other people, I will be branded a monster. If I am calling someone master, though..."  
Culu let Eardil catch his train of thought. "Right! As long as they think you are the slave of some 'high lord', they will leave you alone!"  
"Now, saddle up Roch and Rokka and let's get moving!"  
Eardil stared again. "You named the horses?"  
"Well, if you care so much to sleep with your horse so his feelings are not hurt, the least you could do is name him." Culu answered with a chuckle.  
"Yeah, right. Some names-- Horse and Horse. Same name, different languages. Culu, you need a new hobby."  
The two young men laughed and went about preparing for the trip. They would reach their first town soon. 


End file.
